


Down the Stream and Into the Sea

by coaster



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Character Death, Drunkenness, M/M, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaster/pseuds/coaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Steve and Tony kissed, Tony didn’t remember it.</p><p>~</p><p>Three kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Stream and Into the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write 1872. I also wanted to throw rainbows and confetti in the air as I row down the Nile but this popped out instead. It's uh, mostly canon-compliant.

The first time Steve and Tony kissed, Tony didn’t remember it. It had been more of a clash of teeth, a bump of noses, a warm sliding of tongues. And then Tony had gasped, hiccupped, and blacked out.

It was meant to be a day of celebration. Steve’s first year as Sheriff since he arrived in Timely. Tony’s first year staying put in one place since the War. They didn’t give a reason for why they were having a gathering, but the town didn’t need one to have some fun. Almost everyone in town had turned up at the inn for a good night.

Tony had brought along a bottle of good wine from his private collection and then drank most of it himself among the revelry. When that dusty bottle had emptied, he had gone on to find more swill to guzzle.

Steve had never been one for pulling corks. As he looked on to Tony’s drunken tomfoolery in the noisy space of the inn, he really wished he could say the same for Tony. As it stood, Steve himself would just stick to the cider.

“Ta think he came from big money, eh, Steve?” Bucky asked from beside him. He gestured widely with his own mug of cider at the spectacle of Tony trying to sing and dance a jig to little success. Tony tripped on his own feet, taking down three giggling girls with a bark of laughter. “Well maybe I do believe it, come that sight.”

Steve shook his head. “Let him be,” he said. “It’s been a tough year fer him.” And Steve meant it. Tony should have the opportunity to let some new roots take hold. Steve knew Tony had had a huge part to play in the fall of the Confederate army towards the end of the War. The man didn’t like to speak of the War, just like Steve or Bucky or any other soldier here didn’t like to speak of the War, but Steve could read like any other and the rifles he’d wielded against the South were all branded STARK. Steve could add the ones to get two.

And just a few weeks ago, rogue soldiers had ridden in to Timely, again, covered in dust and the rags of what once could have been uniforms. They had taken over the inn for the better part of a week, bragging about the Indian’s they’d rounded up and sent off. Steve had kept a close eye on the newcomers, lounging at the bar most days with a hand on his pistol. Tony had taken to following Steve like a dog with a bone and the both of them had ended up in a corner of the inn one night, Tony getting steadily drunk, and Steve getting steadily more agitated at the increasingly raucous scene towards the middle of the inn.

When one of the rogues had grabbed a serving girl and pulled her into his lap, Steve had had enough and marched in to break up the gathering. The drunken rogues had not taken Steve’s interference well and Steve had ended up in the middle of a brawl. And just when he had been about to get his head knocked to all Hell on the bar, the man behind him had fallen away with a jerk and a crash and Steve had fumbled himself around to see Tony swaying on his feet, hands wrapped around the shattered legs of a bar stool.

The fighting had stopped at the sound of a stool breaking over a man’s back and every one of the rogues had turned to face Tony with their bloody fists raised. Then one man had dropped his fists. And ran to Tony with a yell of recognition and began to shake Tony’s hands, thanking him for his efforts. For his contribution. For helping them kill all those Southern rat bastards and showing them their place. And Tony had dropped the stool legs, and left without a word.

Steve, still sore in at least twelve different places, had swept a quick eye over the crowd, chattering in excitement among themselves for having come across the great Tony Stark. They hadn’t looked like they were going to cause more trouble, and a few of them had even started to help pick up the broken crockery and furnishings. Steve made a decision and had run out after Tony.

Tony had been out by the old well, as per usual, and half a bottle of something strong was already fuming up the air around him. Steve had sat with Tony, holding him upright when he needed to, and Tony never said a word, right up until he fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. Steve had carried him back to town. And he never asked about it the next morning. Or the day after. Or ever. Steve hadn’t needed to.

He knew.

And now, Tony was back to his usual spirits. Loud and wild. Hair slick and mustache bushy. Steve looked around them at the locals of Timely. They were good folk. Steve would look after them.

Tony was drawing aside one of the girls who had danced with him. They were slowly making their way towards the stairs, both of them giggling too hysterically for Steve’s liking. And Steve—Steve should get Tony back home now.

“I’m gonna call it quits fer tonight, Buck,” Steve said, slapping his mug into Bucky’s free hand. He pressed through the crowd before Bucky could say another word and made a line towards Tony and the girl, Susan?, both already halfway up the stairs.

Tony stumbled on a step and laughed when he was caught by the girl, who must’ve been strong if she could hold up Tony. Steve rounded the banister and put one foot up on the stairs.

“Alright, Stark,” he called, “Time to get you home before you end up on the wrong side of the tracks again.”

“Sheriff the Steve!” Tony roared, raising his arms and leaning sideways onto the banister without his usual grace. “My favorite law man, how are you enjoyin’ yourself this fineee night?” He guffawed at his own joke then took one unsteady step down towards Steve.

“Sheriff,” the girl- woman- Susan, nodded at Steve, sober. “I’ll pass him onto you then. And Tony,” she added to Tony, who looked at her with eyes hooded in, surprisingly, only concentration, “I’ll come find you and we can talk tomorrow.” She patted him on the arm then made her way down into the crowd below, tossing a good night over her shoulder.

“She’s a greeat lady,” Tony said. “Don’t know what she sees in Richards.”

“Come on,” Steve said, ignoring that remark and holding out his arm, “Back home with you.”

Steve had to half carry Tony back to his shop but Tony was warm and Steve was strong enough.

And back in Tony’s small room, Steve gently lowered Tony into the large bed in the loft and just sat, watching Tony breathe. Tony’s breath was steady and deep. He had a healthy set of lungs. Mostly used to needle Steve with inappropriate serenades, but Steve didn’t mind. He yelled at Tony about it but he’d never tell him to stop. Tony had a nice voice when he wasn’t being obnoxious and Steve missed the old songs from his youth.

In front of him, Tony’s breath stuttered then ceased and Steve, always afraid of this happening whenever Tony dropped too deep into his cups, panicked. He lunged forward, pressing one hand to Tony’s chest to check his heart, and another to his nose and mouth.  He was about to slap Tony awake, having felt a steady beating beneath his hand, when Tony snorted once then opened his eyes and stared up at Steve.

“Hello darling,” Tony said, voice rough, and Steve himself stopped breathing. And he would blame that for why he was subsequently pulled down to clash lips with Tony for only a briefly wet and rather unsatisfying two seconds before Tony was out cold, yet again, beneath him.

Steve stayed by the bedside until the moon was sinking and the stars disappeared. And the next day, when Tony came to find him, it seemed the matter was entirely forgotten. Tony laughed and Steve laughed with him. Steve thought that that would be enough for now.

~

The second time Steve and Tony kissed, Steve didn’t remember it. Tony hadn’t meant to, but he held absolutely no regrets for it.

It had been another normal day in Timely. The sun was still hot in the late afternoon and the roads were dry and dusty.

And Tony had blasted out the back wall of his shop, taking the small shed at the back of Starnes Saving & Loan with it. Starnes had yelled at him and then taken him to Steve’s office, demanding justice and recompense.

When Starnes started listing the damages to Steve, Tony simply offered to build a better shed but he was met with an aloof upturn of a rather high nose.

“I’ll be callin’ on Murdock for this, Stark. You needa be knocked down a peg. Can’t buy your way out of everything.” And with that, Tony was left alone in Steve’s custody. At least until Starnes returned with Murdock as he so promised.

“So,” Tony said, sitting down and kicking his feet up onto Steve’s desk, “Feel up for a game of rummy?”

Steve nudged his feet off the desk and then pulled a set of keys off the wall. “Law’s the law, Stark, I gotta lock you up till Murdock comes to settle this.” He jerked a thumb at the empty cells lining the back of the room and broke out a roguish grin. “Today’s your lucky day, you get to pick.”

Tony rolled his eyes but got up and picked his usual corner cell. The walls were nice to lean against and he wasn’t on display if anyone happened to walk in. Steve closed and locked the door behind him and then pocketed the keys instead of hanging them up again. Tony spun around once then sat himself down and looked up expectantly at Steve.

“What’s rummy?” Steve asked, seating himself on the ground opposite Tony on the other side of the bars.

Tony grinned. “New card game I picked up from Barton. Something like poker.”

“Clint?” Steve asked, reaching back with a stretch to grab the grubby deck of cards from the bottom drawer of his desk. “Didn’t know he could learn new tricks.”

Tony chuckled at the old joke. “He got it from a strange fellow on one of his hunting trips,” he said. “The strange fellow gave him the most fascinating quiver I have ever laid eyes on.” Tony accepted the cards from Steve then started flipping the cards to their right side. What was Steve doing to them? “When attached to Barton’s belt, he could just reach down, turn the plate, and the desired arrow would rotate into place and pop out on top for taking.”

Steve hummed then took off his gloves and reached through the bars, miming for the deck. Tony handed the cards over and continued to recount his story, watching Steve’s fingers play over the curling edges of the cards as he shuffled.

“Barton wouldn’t let me take a closer look, not like I needed to look further to figure out how it worked but he did imply that I was lacking in fancy gadget inventions so I took it upon myself to prove him wrong. Not that I would ever make a mechanical quiver of all things but perhaps something more elegant, more discrete. And so,” Tony raised his left, sooty hand and waggled his fingers at Steve. Steve stopped his shuffling and looked intently at Tony’s hand. Tony flexed his wrist back and pinched down his pinky and ring finger at the same time. The holder slid along its track smoothly down Tony’s wrist and stopped with a snap and turn right over his palm.

Steve, appropriately impressed, pulled Tony’s hand up to his eyes for a closer examination. Tony scooted closer to the bars and waited for the verdict. He held his hand loose as Steve pulled at the contraption this way and that, pushing up the sleeve of Tony’s coat and shirt to see how it was strapped to Tony’s forearm.

When Steve finally looked up at him, Tony was ready to burst. “You blew out the back of your shop with just this?” Steve asked.

Tony snorted like the gentleman he wasn’t. “If only.” He pulled back his hand, showing Steve how the catches opened and closed. “See this,” he said, pointing to the braces, “It’ll hold and hide anything solid that fits this size. You’d think a gun under the sleeve perhaps, but I’m working on something a little less lethal, with a wider distribution of force. Should be good for controllin’ mobs once I refine my designs. But that was what blew down my walls and the shed.”

Steve gave him a sly grin. “Cookin’ up something special again?”

“You know it, Sheriff.”

And so they sat on each side of the bars and Tony taught Steve rummy whilst Steve went over his plans for dealing with the new surge of raiders.

Not twenty minutes had gone by when Starnes returned with Murdock in tow.

After another heated hour, Starnes left in high dudgeon and with a promise of a new shed and monetary compensation, and Murdock shook Steve’s hand, then Tony’s, and left at a more leisurely pace.

Tony settled on his blankets and pillow in the cell. His punishment of one night in the cell wasn’t terribly bad. Steve kept him warm, comfortable, and fed at the very least.

“You don’t have to stay here with me, Steve,” Tony said as he arranged his pillow on the one bench. “I can make do by my own self.”

Steve gestured at the paper littering his desk. “I gotta write all this out and get it to Murdock.” He smiled at Tony. “And then I can let you out in the morning to start with the compensations.”

So Tony watched Steve write out reports all night, appreciating the company, and eventually he ended up just watching Steve sleep in his chair, neck bent over the back, hands folded over his stomach. It really didn’t look comfortable. Honestly, there was plenty of space in Tony’s cell to share.

After a long while, Tony decided that watching Steve develop a crick in his neck was going to give himself a crick in his own neck. He pulled out his pocket tools and picked himself out of the cell, then took his pillow and blankets and laid them gently on the desk then turned to the gently snoring Steve.

“I know you have a comfortable bed, Sheriff,” Tony said quietly to the room at large, “And so do I for that matter, but you are simply too heavy for me to carry so this will have to do.”

Slowly, he pulled Steve forward with one hand supporting his neck and the other at his shoulders. He leaned forward to let Steve’s forehead rest on his chest, then he reached back and took his still-warm pillow and placed it over the back of the seat before resting Steve’s head back. He adjusted the pillow then pulled the blanket over Steve and tucked it around his shoulders.

Tony looked down at the completed reports, all written with care and signed with a star. “You’re much worse than me when it comes to being overly attached to your work, Sheriff.”

Steve snored once and continued to sleep on. It couldn’t be comfortable, but it was better than what it was before.

Tony looked at the clock. It was early in the morning. ‘Night’ was over. He was, by technicality, a free man. “Alright, Steve, I’ll come by tomorrow after I’ve finished the shed and sign your papers for you to file.” He straightened his coat and felt at the hidden contraption under his sleeve. He’ll refine it. He has to.

Tony sighed. Fixing up the town, providing all the hardware, and giving back missing limbs to the townsfolk were things he took joy in. But then there was what had happened to Bucky. And maybe if he had tried harder, Bucky wouldn’t have—He shook his head. He couldn’t let death be his only legacy. He had to try harder.

“Good night—morning, Steve,” Tony said, and leaned forward to plant a parting kiss on Steve’s slightly open lips.

And then he froze. Because this was not something he would do. This was not something he should do. This was not something they have done. This was something Tony had only ever dreamed about but had never, ever done. But it felt like he’d done it a hundred times – like kissing Steve was as natural as waving or shaking someone’s hands.

Tony stood slowly and thought over what had just transpired. Steve was his friend. Steve was his good friend. Steve was probably his best friend in this town and the only person besides Bruce to whom he would trust with his life. Tony did not need more that what he already had. And what he had with Steve now, he would always treasure.

He penned a note for Steve then left with a last glance at his Sheriff. He had as much as he needed from Steve. He may want more, but he didn’t need it. All he needed, really needed, was to patch up all the damage his abominable inventions had done to the world.

~

The third time Steve and Tony kissed, it was brief and in the heat of the moment. But in that moment, they felt like they knew each other to the core of their souls. It was natural and it was familiar. Like the first glowing embers of a fire. Like the first trickle of rain in the summer.

To each of them, it was their second kiss. But it was the first one they’d shared together. It was the first one they’d both leaned in towards. Into each other and without hesitation.

They parted with a smile and Tony left to find Bruce, and Steve ran off to chase Turk.

The third time Steve and Tony kissed, it was also their last. And Tony wished with all his being that he hadn’t blacked out from drink. He decided that this would be the last time his inventions would fail him.

Tony woke to the sound of Steve’s voice. Tony screamed to the Heavens as he shot at the man who had felled Steve. Tony took himself away from the pen, from where Steve was no longer with him. Tony sunk deep into his mind and bared his broken soul for selling. Tony picked up his hammer with one goal. Tony had a new purpose. Tony would burn the world to drag the men who took Steve from it down with him to the deepest pits of Hell.

 

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'll write a fix-it for issue #2. Or maybe Marvel will fix it for us?


End file.
